


Wordless Dance

by paxnirvana



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:56:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxnirvana/pseuds/paxnirvana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My entry in PL Nunn's 2004 Weiss Doujinshi Contest. Now a finished doujinshi. Go order yours!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wordless Dance

**Author's Note:**

> This is my entry in PL Nunn's winter 2003-4 doujinshi contest. Details of the contest are available at www.bishonenworks.com. She put out three wordless pages of art to start us off and challenged Weiß writers to come up with a story to surround it. A yaoi story, of course; and there had to be sex involved. The winner would get their story turned into one of her doujinshi.  
> 
> 
> I don't usually write injury!sex, but this was too tempting to pass up. Her art is simply gorgeous. This is the second version of the story, slightly different from the one I posted on my livejournal, [tightened up and edited mainly], as, due to Real Life issues putting me way behind, I was in a tearing rush to post the original by the contest deadline of the 15th.  
> 
> 
> Late note: Yee gods, edit version #3. *sigh* I think I'm done now...

~*~*~*~*~

It was a crash of thunder that woke him. For an endless, dazed moment the world escaped him, and he lay still and silent in the wavering darkness until a slow throb of pain in his head made him stir. He was lying on some kind of couch... someone had put him there, he thought blearily. He hadn't fallen, because his legs were up, his coat spread neatly around him. He frowned and pain radiated from a spot above his right eye, making him blink even against the weak, watery light that came through the tall windows across from him. Slowly he lifted a gloved hand to his forehead, gingerly brushing the already apparent lump.

Damn, whoever had hit him had done it hard.

Then memory returned in a rush. The mission. The target. Unexpectedly strong resistance in the form of a well-armed target and several more bodyguards than reported. And a simple infiltration-and-strike mission had suddenly turned into a chaotic close-quarters free-for-all. Not his specialty. The wire needed more space to throw... and strangling took too long in a brawl. But he'd held his own until a meaty backhand from one of the bodyguards had sent him reeling away from the target... who had been lifting his gun... and then... Aya.

Yohji's eyes flashed open and he surged up, panicked, ignoring the sick whirling in his head for the sprawled shape on the floor beside him.

Aya. Silent and still. Lying in a puddle of blood.

He was instantly on his knees beside the crumpled form, turning it over carefully.

"Aya... damn it..."

After stripping away his thick gloves, he cupped the pale face with a hand that trembled, only glad that there was no one to witness his brief lapse. He ran those fingers over slack lips, checking for breath. Felt it faint but sure on his skin. He let out a shaky sigh of relief even as he dropped his hand down to check Aya's pulse.

It was still strong, but the amount of blood on the floor was worrying. He hauled the other man into his lap, almost giddy when Aya made a soft sound at the motion.

"What the hell happened?" he muttered even as he dug into an inner pocket for his cell phone. He thumbed in the memorized number with one hand, the other cradling Aya's limp body close. There was a bright flash outside; thunder rolled on it's heels. He glanced outside as a heavy wave of rain hit the windows, pounding hard. There was no ring. The cell just crackled static in his ear. He glared down at it, searching for the signal strength indicator.

No service. Fuck.

He shoved the useless phone back in his pocket. Cursed out loud. No calling for back-up then. He looked around the room.

They were in the front hall of the target's house. It was an isolated, yet elegant, summer retreat in the mountains behind Tokyo, the dwelling and it's outbuildings surrounded by semi-wild forest and rocky hills. Only four-wheel drive vehicles made the trip to the front door easily. It was just one more way the target had tried to guard himself against attempts like theirs. Tried and failed. They had had to walk in through thick woods and over rugged hills from an access road several miles away. And even though they'd already taken out the exterior guards and removed that obstruction, there was no way he could walk back that distance over unfamiliar terrain with his head like this - or with Aya bleeding out. So, first things first. See to Aya's wounds.

He finally noticed the faint sting of his own wounds as he got the other man up on the couch where he'd woken only moments ago. But he ignored them as he stripped the heavy maroon coat away from Aya's body urgently, appalled by the amount of blood caked on the leather. He tore the black high-collared shirt Aya wore beneath it from hem to shoulder, desperate to find the wound. Was relieved to find only that a bullet had creased Aya on his side beneath the right arm - not serious on it's own, but unbound it had bleed freely. No ribs seemed to be broken, though he'd likely wake sore and aching.

The light, filmy curtains over the French doors ripped easily enough, and, after folding, made passable bandages. He bound Aya's chest and shoulder firmly, glad that the bleeding seemed willing to stop with just simple pressure.

Aya was still out, but no longer in danger of bleeding to death. He checked his pulse again to make certain. Steady, but slow. Maybe he'd slipped into real sleep rather than unconsciousness. Regardless, Yohji thought through a haze of unease, it was time to find out if they were secure or not...

Yohji hauled himself to his feet, head whirling worse than before, and almost collapsed against the newel post at the end of the stairs nearby. Cursed under his breath when he realized he'd left his gloves off. They were somewhere under the bloody pile of both their coats and too much trouble to retrieve. But he couldn't use his wire without them. With a groan, he slid down the post enough to snatch up Aya's katana by his feet. It wasn't his weapon of choice, but it was better than nothing...

He staggered up the stairs after stealing one last look at Aya laid out on the couch. His body was pale and still, criss-crossed by stark shadows in the lightning-lit night.

Aya was thorough. They were probably all dead - the target and his bodyguards - but he had to make sure. With both of them wounded, they couldn't afford to take chances.

He dimly remembered the upper hallway; there was a body by the far door to the left. The target's room. He made his slow way there, along the wall, the katana practically dragging behind him. Stopped beside the body, eyeing it critically. Dead. Very. A neat bloom of blood on the chest showed the heart wound. He turned away from the corpse and pushed into the room beyond.

A charnel house. At least seven dead in here. Two by wire, but the rest were clearly Aya's work. He stared down at a mountain of a man who's left arm had been severed at the elbow sometime before his throat had been slashed open and dimly recognized the bruiser who had most likely knocked him out.

Beyond was the target, a pistol still clutched in a dead hand. He was headless.

A quick survey of the rest of the bodies assured him none of them would be paying them a surprise visit later. There was only the risk of the target's other flunkies coming up the mountain now, but between the deliberately bad road and the storm, he figured it was unlikely they would be bothered that night. They would be safe at least until the storm abated. Then they could steal one of the target's 4-wheel drive vehicles and get out of here. But there was the night to get through first...

After pondering for a moment, he left the room. Propping the katana against the hallway wall, he awkwardly dragged the one body outside in with the rest. If they were going to be stuck here for a few hours more, there was no sense stinking up the whole house. He shut the door on death, leaning against the wall outside for a moment to try to stop the crazed spinning of his head.

"What are you doing?" The hoarse question made him jump and scrabble for the blade he'd leaned against the wall. All he did was knock it to the floor with a clatter that was unnaturally loud in the charged silence even as recognition penetrated his mind.

"You're awake," Yohji said over the echoes, faintly dazed. Thunder rumbled in the distance. He squinted down the hall, head pounding. Aya stood at the top of the stairs, arm clutched tight to his bandaged side. Red bangs fell over his eyes concealing his gaze in shadow.

"That should be my line. What are you doing up here?" Aya asked, taking a step toward him. Yohji let a half smile twist his lips as he crouched down using the wall as a brace and picked up Aya's katana. He was probably in deep shit now for treating it so casually. He rose slowly to his feet and took a cautious step down the hall, stopped and swayed again, vision graying. Too much, too soon...

"Huh, that's not good..." he said and suddenly Aya was at his side, unbandaged shoulder shoving under his and propping him up with a steadying arm around his waist. Even shirtless, Aya was warm against him. The contrast made Yohji shiver.

"Fool, after all the work I did to get you downstairs..."

"Had to make sure...." Aya snorted as they made their slow way down the hall to the stairs again and Yohji felt the need to defend himself. "Hey, you were passed out and not talking. I wasn't going to maybe let some wounded, vengeful moron sneak up on us."

The look Aya gave him was faintly mocking. "Such dedication to mission."

"Fuck you, Aya," he said through gritted teeth. Aya just eyed him sidelong as they maneuvered onto the stairs, still bracing him with his arm.

"No. Probable concussion - you'd just puke on me." Yohji frowned, surprised by his provocative, faintly scornful words but couldn't hold the expression as it just made his head throb more. He lifted an unsteady hand to his forehead, wincing.

"I'm not concussed..."

The low voice cut him off. "You went down like... you were dead." There was an odd tone to Aya's voice that silenced his almost instinctive denial. Sharp. Hinting at heat. Not Aya's usual tone. Was that... concern? They were assassins and sometime fuck-buddies. Partners in sin and Weiß. But nothing more... Or at least, so he'd thought. His aching head whirled a little faster now, but for different reasons, and he felt a tinge of that nausea Aya had mentioned threaten. Changing the subject, he figured, would be a good idea.

"Where are we going?" he muttered as they reached the bottom of the stairs. "I don't really want to sit out here in the front hall all night. And upstairs is..." He trailed off. Upstairs was filled with bodies. Aya knew that as well as he. The front hall was at least covered with only their own blood. The jumbled pile of their coats waited beside the couch. Aya lowered him down to sit on the couch again, letting him drape himself over the arm rather than lie down flat again. His head ached too much for that.

Aya crouched down and gathered up their coats. He frowned at the mess Yohji had made of his shirt, but it was already soaked with blood. With a half-shrug, he wadded it up and shoved it under his arm. Yohji's gloves he stuck into the cross-sleeved coat's pocket. Yohji closed his eyes for a moment and bowed his head into the palm of one hand to try to still the throbbing in his head. Half-listened to Aya rustle around some more.

When he'd seen Aya lying so still amid the blood on the floor like that, he'd been... alarmed. Okay, maybe more than alarmed. But he'd taken a blow to the head, after all. But now that he was bandaged and moving around, Aya seemed by far the more able of the two of them. Yohji felt a tap on his wrist and opened his eyes.

From somewhere Aya had produced the sheath to his sword - maybe from inside his coat - and was holding it out to Yohji for him to sheathe the blade that he still held in his other hand. Aya held the saya steady, his gaze holding just as steady on Yohji's face. Meeting that gaze, Yohji understood that he was being asked to sheathe the sword. He guided the deadly tip toward the opening but his hand was shaking so badly the blade almost seemed to shiver. The lightning and thunder had faded into the distance and the night beyond the tall windows was lost in a wash of lashing rain. He tried to focus his concentration through the ache in his head and the roar of the rain, but the blade only swayed more, threatening Aya's hand until warm fingers closed around his wrist and helped him guide the gleaming blade into velvet-lined blackness with a snap. He looked up into Aya's eyes again, caught a flicker of something heated deep in the glittering gaze.

"According to the plans, there's a servant's room off the back behind the kitchen. It should be easier to defend, if we need to," Aya said, glancing around at the bank of tall windows fronting the hall that showed the savage night beyond. He made no move to take the sheathed sword away from Yohji, instead he climbed to his feet and held out his hand. He had both coats tucked under the other arm, and his face was grim. Yohji let himself be pulled up, trying to ignore the almost simultaneous grunts of pain the effort drew from them both.

"We're a mess," he muttered, half to himself.

"Aa," Aya simply said, slinging his arm over his shoulder again and leading him deeper into the house.

~*~*~*~*~

Yohji supposed it was only a live-in maid's quarters, but to his intense relief the room had a double-sized western-style bed rather than a futon, a tiny attached bathroom and it's own gas heater. He leaned heavily against the doorframe as Aya took the katana from him and laid it and their coats over the top of the tall dresser. Heavy rain was still lashing wildly against the outside of the windows. The air was heavy and damp, sending a chill through him and making him shiver. He was in mild shock probably too, from his injury. Aya swept him with a sharp glance before going over to light the heater.

Head injuries sucked. Yohji staggered across the room and into the bathroom. Flicked on the single bulb of the old light fixture and stared briefly into the mirrored cabinet over the sink. He looked like hell. There was a cut high on his cheekbone. Blood from it was smeared across his face. The fist-sized knot over his eye was already turning purple. It ached and throbbed when he probed at it gingerly, wincing. Inside the cabinet was an odd collection of medical supplies. He found gauze but no tape, a huge box of self-adhesive bandages, some antiseptic and a bottle of aspirin. He washed down three pills first, then resigned himself to closing the still slowly-leaking cut on his leg with a lot of the little bandages.

Bending over to take his boots off was a bad idea. It made him dangerously dizzy. He leaned back against the wall for a moment to steady himself, eyes closed in a futile attempt to halt the slow spin of his head, and started violently when he felt Aya's hand touch his shoulder.

"Okay?" Aya asked him quietly. He didn't nod, but looked out from under his tumbled bangs at the other man, panting slightly.

"Yeah, just need to go slow." He gestured at the gap in his pants and the blood-smeared leg beneath. "Gotta clean that up."

To his mild surprise, Aya knelt in front of him on the cold tile floor. His heart gave a distinct lurch in his chest as Aya glanced up at him from that position, that odd heat back in his eyes. Whirling head nearly forgotten, Yohji braced himself against the wall as Aya's hands rose and worked briskly at the closing of his pants. The snap and zipper opened easily and before he knew it Aya was tugging down the snug pants, working them carefully past the wound on his thigh and helping him step out of them one foot at a time until he was left only in his boxers.

He stared down at Aya's bent head and felt a distinct, if totally inappropriate, stirring in his groin. Aya either didn't notice his slowly hardening cock or chose to ignore it as he set about cleaning his thigh wound with the antiseptic. The pain of that was enough to briefly discourage his erection. The wound wasn't bad, Yohji could tell already, but deep enough that it would keep leaking blood unless covered. Sure fingers spread cool ointment over the wound. He shivered. Then with businesslike precision Aya folded a short length of gauze and taped it awkwardly into place with half a dozen of the little bandages. It looked like shit, but it would do the job, Yohji figured.

Aya paused when he was done, hands cupping Yohji's thigh, his head still bent. The contact was warm and suddenly incredibly intimate. Shifting from necessary to something else in the space of a breath. His pulse leaped and raced, his flagging cock surging again.

"Aya?"

"I thought he'd killed you."

The words, low and harsh, startled him. He fisted his hands against the wall behind him.

"I'm tougher than that."

"So you are." The red head lifted; violet eyes gleamed at him in the poor light. Aya's hands slid slowly up his thigh, skimmed over his crotch. Yohji sucked in a hissed breath at the contact, hips jerking forward involuntarily. Before he could fully absorb the sensation, the implications, Aya had tugged his boxers down around his ankles and taken his erection in hand. With a last flickering glance into his startled eyes, Aya swallowed him down.

Hot, damp heat enveloped him. He groaned, felt warm flesh beneath his hands and dimly realized he'd clutched at Aya's shoulders. To push him away or encourage him on, he had no idea, but as Aya moved on him, sliding his mouth over his erection, he could do nothing but hold on, head thrown back against the wall. A firm hand encircled him at the root, positioned him better in Aya's mouth and he slid deeper. Impossibly deep. Aya's mouth. Warm and wet with perfect suction. Fingertips teased along sensitive flesh down to his balls, making him shudder in pleasure.

It was better than he'd imagined. Aya's mouth on him. Moving, sucking, licking. Hot and wet and so damn good. He shifted one hand to Aya's head, wound his fingers in the thick hair, guiding him, encouraging him now. So good. He groaned deeply, disregarding the ache in his head completely for the ache in his balls, mind lost in a tumble of disjointed thought.

They'd just fucked before, after missions. Quick, hard, wordless sex. Him inside Aya; Aya jerking himself off. It wasn't sex as he was used to it with women, but it seemed to fill a need no woman could touch. And yet...

There'd been no offer of anything else in all the months they'd been doing it. No foreplay. No exploration. No kissing... But why would he want that from Aya? Did he...? He shied away from the thought even as he guiltily acknowledged that he'd dreamed of Aya's mouth on him like this... hot sweaty dreams that didn't hold a candle to the reality of it. He didn't last long. He couldn't with Aya's mouth on him. He clutched the back of Aya's head, holding him in place as he spurted come down Aya's throat with a strangled cry. But Aya didn't try to pull away. Didn't gag either, which was a surprise, but swallowed his seed down as if he craved it, sucking at his softening cock gently when the flow was done.

He bent forward, shuddering, hand loosening in Aya's hair at last as he drew unsteady breaths. Aya pulled back enough so his cock slipped out of his mouth. He felt the other man's breath, quick and ragged, against his groin as the red head leaned against his lower belly. Hard hands bracketed his hips.

"Aya..." he ventured, uncertain, wary, as the silence dragged on.

Aya shifted slightly, pulling back from him. "Bed."

Aya stood up, not meeting his gaze now, and drew him into the other room with a hand around his upper arm. He managed to kick off the boxers tangled around his ankles without tripping, content in the daze of afterglow for Aya to guide him. Aya pulled the covers back and settled Yohji on the bed first. Yanked off his own boots, stripped away his pants and crawled into the bed after him, spooning around him so that Yohji felt the heat and length of Aya's erection press firmly against his ass. He blanched a little, flinching. He'd never... he'd always been the one doing... But Aya just pulled the covers over the two of them, grunting a little as he settled himself with the bandaged arm draped over Yohji's waist.

"Go to sleep."

"Aya..."

"Shut up, Yohji. Rest."

It was cowardly of him to leave Aya like that, unfulfilled, but the ache in his head and the drain of release conspired against him. Or so he told himself as he let his eyes close. It had nothing to do with the somehow welcome warmth of Aya behind him, the branding weight of the arm over his waist. Not really. He slipped into darkness, not sure which was more soothing  the sound of the rain or the feel of Aya's steady heartbeat against his back.

~*~*~*~*~

He lay still, wondering what had woken him. Later he was surprised to realize that it was the silence he noticed first. The rain had stopped at last. It was still dark outside, but if the rain had stopped they'd need to leave before dawn brought possible reinforcements. The arm still draped over his waist was another surprise. Aya's arm.

He pondered the pale skin of it for a moment, dimly aware that his head was hurting far less now than it had before. The aspirin had done it's work. He became aware of the presence of Aya behind him, body pressed close, but not tightly. It felt... odd, almost disturbing to be lying there virtually in Aya's arms. They didn't share a bed after the rare occasions they fucked. But then they rarely did it on a bed at all. And never before had Aya offered to go down on him, much less done it...

His mind whirled with the memory. Of Aya's mouth on him. Aya touching him. Bringing him off with real skill. Had it been a dream? His cock began to harden again, liking the idea dream or not. He shifted, vaguely self-conscious, a lot uncertain, and felt Aya's hand spread flat over his stomach, his arm tightening around him until he fell still again.

"Does your head hurt or are you always such a restless sleeper?" Aya asked huskily almost in his ear. Warm breath stirred his hair and sent a tremor through his body.

"Head's better. The rain's stopped. We'll have to clear out of here soon."

"Hn," was Aya's only response to that as he rolled Yohji back against his chest. He let himself go with the motion, feeling unusually pliant and relaxed as he stared up into Aya's hooded eyes. As if some boundary had already been crossed from which there was no retreat.

Their gazes locked. Held. And then Aya's head was bending down toward him and Aya's mouth was on his, slow and exploratory.

The kiss lasted forever and not long enough. Aya pulled away finally only to shift position further above him, a hand rising to cup his face as he leaned down and took his mouth again, the move quicker, surer. Tongues tangled. He almost forgot what it meant to breathe as he felt the pulse of Aya's erection against his thigh, the answering throb of his own.

Final reservations fell away as Aya's hand slid down from his face, along his throat and over his chest. Fingertips brushed a nipple. It went hard, making him shudder with anticipation and want and abruptly he remembered the way he had felt when he saw Aya lying on the floor in the pool of his own blood - lost, desperate. His hand rose up, tangled in Aya's hair and he took control of the kiss with rough urgency, nipping and sucking at Aya's lips. This was supposed to be his area of expertise. It was time he proved it.

Aya moaned into his mouth as Yohji surged up and pressed him back, in turn, against the bed. He remembered the other's wounded side too late and pulled back, a hand touching the makeshift bandages as he frowned at Aya from beneath tumbled hair.

"You all right?"

"A little sore." A white lie, he guessed, but Aya's hands were already reaching for him, drawing him back down, his mouth lifting for another kiss. And so Yohji obliged him, devouring his mouth even as he slid a thigh between Aya's and felt the smooth cotton of briefs against his skin covering the hard heat of Aya himself.

He made a sound of impatient annoyance, pulling away enough to reach down and tug at the briefs. Wanting them gone. Aya's hands clutched at his back and he lifted his hips, making it easier for Yohji to strip him as naked as he was in a few seconds. His head fell back, baring his pale throat.

"I want inside you," Yohji said against that smooth expanse, hand reaching down with only the slightest hesitation to take Aya's erection in hand. It felt good, not alien or awkward as he'd half expected no matter that he'd never done this for another man before. And the low sounds Aya made as he stroked him were proof that it felt equally good to him. "Do we have...?"

"Antibiotic cream," Aya said a little breathlessly, a flush just touching his cheeks. "On the nightstand behind you..." He let Aya's cock go just long enough to twist around, locate and snag the tube. During that brief moment, Aya reached down between them and caught both of their cocks in his hand. Stroked them together, long and slow, making Yohji pause to gasp and groan along with Aya.

"Unh.. gods... that's good... Aya... but I want..."

"Yes. Do it," Aya said, gaze scorching and dark, latching onto his. He caught Aya's knee, lifted it up and slid his own thigh further between Aya's, pressing their groins closer together. He fumbled the cap off the tube, squeezed out a huge glob of the cream onto fingers that shook with eagerness. The need raging in him now was nothing like the need he'd felt for Aya before; that had been an almost violent urge to pound into someone  anyone really  until he came all at once, shaking and drained and empty. A purge after the gruesome things they did for their ruthless masters became too much. He'd always taken Aya from behind, leaving him to his own release and not caring, really, if he got off on it at all. But now it was different. He wanted it to be Aya now. It mattered that he could see his face... taste his lips... see his reactions...

He leaned forward and covered Aya's mouth with his again as his cream-covered fingers probed for and found the seam of Aya's ass. Dropped them down the sleek curve of it the fraction necessary to find the small hole waiting below. He stroked it gently, spreading cream outside before pressing two fingers within the tight ring of flesh. It spasamed under the assault, but relaxed almost immediately, letting his fingers slip deeper inside to smooth the cream around.

Aya was making wordless grunts and soft sounds of distinct pleasure as he fingered him, preparing him. The red head fell back, chin rising high. Aya's teeth were clamped tight on his lower lip, and he breathed in shallow, urgent pants, breath whistling faintly through his teeth. Yohji stared at Aya's face, enrapt. He wanted it. Craved it. Every hitched breath betrayed his need... Aya needed him... Yohji's own breath caught and he leaned forward, setting his mouth over the racing pulse in Aya's throat, biting down on it even as he thrust his fingers into him as deep as he could.

"You really want me..." he muttered against the reddened skin of his neck, feeling Aya's pulse jump in response. Aya's arms closed around him, pressing him closer. He licked the skin, soothing it before nibbling at it again. Yohji's cock ached, already dripping slippery pre-come that made the round head glide across the sleek skin of Aya's lower stomach, skittering and bouncing against Aya's own weeping erection.

"Shut up and fuck me," Aya said, his voice a husky growl, fingers digging into Yohji's shoulders and drawing him closer.

He saw red then, for the challenge in Aya's tone. Lifted Aya's leg higher and draped it over his own hip, before reaching around and guiding his cock to the slicked hole. Aya rolled his hips toward him, moving against him eagerly.

He pressed against tight flesh. Dug his fingers deep into Aya's butt to guide himself. Felt the resistance, the always unbelievable tightness that seemed almost unbearable at first until the ring of muscle relaxed enough to let him in. He slid into the vise-like heat of Aya, groaning his name as he did so.

It took a moment to adjust, to keep from coming in one hard surge; he waited with his forehead pressed to Aya's. He waited for Aya too, listened to both of them panting deeply, their bodies as close as he could make them. He figured it was okay to move when Aya canted his head to the side and pressed his lips to Yohji's chin and jaw, mouthing him as he made soft mewling sounds of need, of acceptance.

Yohji tossed his head back. Watched the other man's face as he drove himself further into him. Felt the clench, the surge of Aya's cock tight against his belly as he struck deep. He moved in him over and over again, knowing it couldn't last forever but wanting it to for the way Aya's skin flushed and his eyes gleamed, the way his breath caught on each thrust in and the way the sheen of saliva on his lips glistened as he moaned on the outward stroke.

Why had he never realized how beautiful Aya was? Especially like this, all the ice and control melted away. Why had he never faced him as they did this?

A hand tangled in his hair, drew his mouth down. They kissed with languid urgency as he worked deep in Aya, over and over again, cock throbbing  then coming suddenly and without warning when Aya's tongue surged deep into his mouth, mimicking his thrusts. He groaned down Aya's throat as his mind blanked out with white-hot heat, fingers biting with bruising strength into Aya's ass as he ground himself into him even further, trying to milk every last ounce of come from his clenching balls. Aya thrust his tongue even deeper, hands bracketing his face as he kissed him, drawing him up into a clash of breath and teeth and lip that made his already spinning head do so faster.

He wrenched his face away from Aya's with a gasp. Sucking in great gasping breaths as he fumbled his hand between them until he found Aya's still rigid cock. Stroked it fast and hard even as he felt the last few jolts of his own release shake him.

Aya cried out, arched up and came over his fingers and their bellies in a great shuddering surge, thick white streams coating them both. He held Aya tight as he shivered through the aftershocks, collapsing down over him limply. Yohji lay with Aya against him, listening to the roar of his pulse in his ears, felt the rapid thunder of Aya's heart beat, a match to his own. Held him close, uncaring of the stickiness between them, the sweat that would soon cool, the aches and twinges of his injured body. Felt only the warmth where Aya touched him. Never wanted to let the feeling go.

"Aya... gods..."

The red head burrowed closer under his chin. Aya's voice when it came was soft, spent. "Don't... talk... don't say anything..."

He fell silent. Listened. To Aya's breathing as it steadied. To the vaguely frightening things his own heart was trying to tell him. About realities and longings... and the things this night had revealed. Things he could no longer brush off or bury. He heard something steady and persistent outside. And inside as well. "Eh, Aya, I think the rain's started again."

Aya tilted his head. Pressed soft lips to his throat. He felt what might have been a smile turn up the other's lips. "Hn... then we don't have to leave until daylight."

He tightened his arms around Aya. "No. Not yet..."

\- - fin - -


End file.
